


#32: When Travelling, Keep Your Wits About You

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: 100 Rules for Adults (That Clint Barton Never Learned) [32]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ASL, Gen, Pre-Relationship, references to abduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission doesn't go as planned, and Clint finds himself drugged, unable to talk, and on the streets. Fortunately, he finds a good Samaritan to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#32: When Travelling, Keep Your Wits About You

**Author's Note:**

> I love deaf Clint, but that hasn't happened yet in this 'verse. However, I figure a traumatized kid placed into the system may have shut down, vocally, and been placed into occupational therapy where he was perhaps taught ASL as a means to communicate.

Clint staggered down the street, dazed and dizzy. He’d been in his nest and then woken up in an abandoned warehouse with no weapons, no comms, unable to speak (they’d obviously given him something), and fighting a tilting equilibrium. He knew that Coulson would be looking for him, but Clint had no idea where he was, even if he could call for extraction.

It was dark, and apparently pretty late given the absence of people in work clothes Clint passed as he tried to clear his head and figure out his next move. 

“Sorry, man,” someone said as Clint wobbled as he was bumped into. “Whoa, dude, you okay?” The guy reached out to steady Clint; he was dressed casually in jeans, a black shirt, and a leather jacket.

Clint shook his head. ‘Help. Phone?” he mouthed. 

The man frowned, and let go of one of Clint’s forearm. “Are you deaf?” he asked, pointing at Clint, then moving his index finger from his lips to his ear along his jaw-line.

Clint shook his head, then nodded, trying to remember decades old lessons from foster care when he’d refused to talk to anyone for months and the school therapist had tried to teach him to sign. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. ‘No deaf,’ he mouthed, tapping his index and middle finger against the pad of his thumb and repeating the man’s earlier sign. ‘Help?’ he asked, turning his left hand palm up, and placing his right fist, thumb up, on top, then lifting them together. Then he held his right hand to his ear in the pretty much universal sign for phone. ‘Phone?’

“Sure, man,” the guy said, nodding, while fishing his phone from his pocket.

Once he had it, Clint typed in Coulson’s cell number. _It’s Clint. Dunno where I am. Borrowing a phone_ he typed. _Can’t talk._

The text came back immediately. _Physically or compromised? Tracing this phone_

 _drugged_ Clint typed back. _Call this number. Good somitarin_

Clint handed the phone back. ‘Friend call you’ he mouthed while signing, hooking his index fingers together, then rotating it and doing it again, then making the phone sign before pointing at the guy.  
The guy nodded just as his phone rang. “Hello?”

Clint listened to the one side of the conversation he could hear. “Agent Coulson? Of which agency? Oh. We’re on 3rd and Palasades. No problem. Happy to help. Yes, sir, I can stay with him. Fifteen minutes? Yes, sir.”

Slightly out of it, Clint couldn’t help but smile; when Phil brought out the Agent Coulson voice, people listened.

“Your friend says to stay calm, he’s on the way with medical and back up, and you can keep texting him if you need to,” the man said, handing the phone back, but Clint shook his head. 

‘Name?’ he mouthed, tapping his right left index and middle finger on top of the left, then pointed at his helper.

“Oh, I’m Sam,” the man said, extending his hand, and Clint accepted the gesture, shaking his hand. 

Clint nodded, then thanked him, pads of his fingers against his lips, then extending his hand.

“Hey, no problem, man. Your friend said your name is Clint?”

Clint nodded. And wobbled.

“Shit, hey, let’s sit down,” Sam said, lightly taking Clint by the elbow and leading him over to a low wall, where they perched on the edge. “You okay?”

Clint shrugged and shook his head, then closed his eyes and breathed deep as another wave of dizziness washed over him. The warm hand remained on his elbow, though he heard rustling and the tapping of keys.

“Hey, Clint,” Sam said, his voice gentle. “Your scary friend Agent Coulson says I should talk to you.”

Clint smiled slightly at the description. 

“Shit, I need to text my girlfriend,” Sam said, and Clint heard tapping again. “I was on my way to the bar down the street. I was going to propose tonight.”

Clint opened his eyes and looked at Sam, rubbing a closed fist over his sternum as he mouthed ‘Sorry.’

“Hey, man, no worries,” Sam said. “Today or tomorrow, makes little difference. Just glad I was in the right place at the right time to be helpful. She’s why l learned how to sign, which is pretty ironic, y’know?”

Clint raised his eyebrows in what he hoped said ‘tell me the story.’

“Her brother is deaf,” Sam explained. “We’ve been dating for a few years, and she’s taken me home for a few holidays. The first time it was really awkward having to rely on everyone else, because we have a lot in common. We both do software design and gaming. We started texting and emailing after that, and I asked Becca to teach me to sign so the next time we got together with the family we could actually talk.”

Clint nodded. 

“Did you learn to sign for a family member?” Sam asked after a beat of silence.

Clint shook his head. “Foster care,” he managed to barely whisper. “Wouldn’t talk.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, and you probably shouldn’t talk now,” he said with a grimace. “That sounds brutal, and I’ve always been told when the voice goes it’s worse to whisper.”

Clint nodded again. Medical had told him the same thing when he’d had laryngitis.

Sam’s phone chirped and he glanced at it before handing it over with a smile. “It’s for you,” he said, unnecessarily.

Clint glanced down at the message. _three minutes out. be nice to your new friend_. He smirked as he typed. _I’m always nice_ he sent back before handing the phone back to Sam. He nodded his thanks, then mouthed as he signed ‘Girl friend?’ drawing a thumb down the curve of his jaw, then repeating the friend sign from earlier.

Sam nodded. “Becca,” he said. “She teaches at a local middle school and is working on her Master’s Degree so she can teach at the local college, too. Math,” he said before Clint could figure out how to ask. “Feeling any better?”

Clint shrugged. His head was clearing a little, but he still felt off balance. In the distance, he saw two shiny black SUVs on approach. At least Coulson hadn’t called in an ambulance.

Sam followed his gaze, squinting. “That your ride?”

Clint nodded. 

“SHIELD, huh?” Sam asked as they stood. “Is that supposed to be a secret organization?”

Clint shrugged and nodded.

“You may want to mention to someone that having a logo on the side of the car attracts attention,” Sam said casually as the SUVs pulled up along the curb. 

“We hear that a lot,” Phil said dryly as he approached, his suit slightly rumpled, tie missing, hints of stubble shining under the street lights. “Sam Kaach? Phil Coulson. Thank you for helping my asset.”

Sam accepted Phil’s handshake. “Not a problem. Glad to be of help. Anything else I can do?”

Clint shook his head as Phil answered. “No, we’re okay here, but thank you.”

Clint signed his thanks as well and Sam nodded. As he turned to resume his walk toward the bar, Clint reached out and caught his forearm. “Propose tonight,” he whispered hoarsely, not knowing how to sign it.   
“Text Phil so I know how it goes.”

Sam grinned and nodded. “Will do. Take care of yourself, Clint. Agent Coulson.”

“Mr. Kaach,” Phil said with a nod of thanks and dismissal.

Clint and Phil watched Sam walk down the street until he disappeared around the corner and Clint surrendered himself to the small medical team that Phil had brought with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I have had one semester of ASL and I work with deaf students regularly. If I've messed something up, please tell me.


End file.
